


Comfortably Numb

by Enchantable



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is saved, their friends are dead and Mako can't seem to feel a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Maleigh rough sex!

They both feel—

Nothing. 

Gipsy’s gone and Stacker’s dead and Herc’s little more than a ghost made flesh and blood. The silence is overwhelming and the fact that they have had a taste of drifting only to have it all ripped away seems almost too cruel to comprehend. Instead they stand in front of the pacific ocean as the world mourns heros who have gone before their time. 

Raleigh wishes he could scream, but the urge isn’t there. 

So he stands quietly with his hands folded. Mako’s a few feet away. Somewhere deep inside it bothers him. He thinks she should be closer, close enough for him to touch. Close enough for their minds to meld without a system or a Jaeger or any of that shit. But she’s a few feet away and for all he cares it could be a thousand. No-one touches her, except the marines who pass her a military flag out of respect for a man who has served them all too much to be ignored. 

She accepts it with a bowed head, her features giving away nothing. 

When it’s over and the crowd disperses he ignores them, he just watches Mako greet what looks like every person who can work up the nerve to speak to her. When they’re all gone she stands there and he stays right where he is. The wind toys with the hem of her dress. She doesn’t wear black like his suit. She wears blue. Pale, almost innocent blue. Because that is the color she greeted Stacker in, it is fitting that it’s the color she bids him farewell in. 

Mako likes symmetry. 

Finally she clasps the flag to her chest and turns around. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes at the sight of him and Raleigh lets out a rough breath. If it’s surprise he—he cuts himself off. He doesn’t know what the emotion is and that’s what makes the numbness fracture for a moment before sealing over. She steps forward and looks at him. 

"You didn’t need to stay," she says. 

He nods because he doesn’t trust his voice. Mako looks at him but feels—she doesn’t know what she feels. Her thoughts are silent and that alone sends a stab of panic through her. Raleigh wears a suit that’s just a shade bluer than black. There’s a hint of a beard on his jaw and his hair is messy from the breeze. She wonders how long they’ve been standing there and she realizes she can’t remember. 

"It was nice," she says after a moment.

"You don’t have to do that," he says quietly. 

"Do what?" she asks. 

He shakes his head and she lets out a breath. She hates being unsure. Or not unsure, because she’s still too numb for that. But she doesn’t feel certain about him even though she’s spent hours in his head. The drift is silence, but whoever coined that phrase doesn’t know what silence is. This is silence. It is silence and numbness and Mako knows what waits when that breaks. 

She walks forward and he falls into step just slightly behind her. They’re both Rangers but even now he’s trying to protect her. She wishes he wouldn’t. She doesn’t need protection. They walk back to the shatterdome where their rooms are still across the hall. They retreat into their separate spaces without another word. 

Raleigh doesn’t sleep, not anymore, not unless he really has to. There are too many ghosts in his head. His eyes are on the door before the knock sounds. Still he’s surprised when Mako does. 

She’s numb still but walking over to his door is hard enough to shake loose a piece of whatever’s enveloped her. He opens the door and she can’t read anything in his eyes. They stare at each other across a ravine, something endless and horrible. He keeps his eyes on her as she looks at him silently for a moment. 

"I don’t feel anything," she says and swallows thickly, “help me?" 

He nods and grabs the back of her head in one motion. He kisses her roughly and she fights back in the only way that she can. Their mouths are hard and fierce as they seek each other out. She bite his lower lip as he tugs her hair, testing each other’s boundaries as they stagger back into his sparse room. He’s shirtless and she’s in the shorts and tank they give everyone to sleep in. His fingers dig into her back as she presses their bodies together. 

He pushes her into the wall, making sure her head falls against his hand and not the rough stone. She drags him with her, not letting him move from her skin. Her heel digs into his lower back as he bruises her thighs through the cotton of her shorts. It isn’t gentle or lovely or sweet or anything that it should be. But they aren’t anything they should be. He hooks his hand along the curve of her leg and then lifts her thigh, locking it around his waist. 

"Nothing," she hisses, “harder."

He nods because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her and presses their bodies roughly together. She tightens her thighs on him as he pulls away from the wall and drops them both onto the bed. She arches up as he rips her shirt off, moving in sync. Deep inside he can feel some of the numbness abate as he ducks his head. 

He marks her body with his teeth and his tongue as she rakes her fingernails up his spine. He can imagine the skin breaking, like whatever fucked up shit is holding him together is breaking too. He moves harder on her skin, wanting her to feel the same way. Unable to see her features as they contort in the first expression she’s worn in days. He gets to her lower abdomen before his lips turn almost gentle. She fists her hand in his hair and all but tugs him up, kissing him roughly as if his gentleness is an affront. She scolds him without words and pulls back, glaring as if to say that can come later. 

He nods against her mouth as his fingers dig into her hips and then roughly push her legs away. She arches her self as he drags her shorts down. His hand is rough as it cups her through the thin material of her panties. She digs her toes into his lower back and drags his shorts down. His hand leaves her to finish the job, leaving them both in their underwear. He pulls back and looks down at her for a moment because even in this, even at their worst, he can’t be that guy. 

She can’t take the flicker of softness in his eyes. 

She just can’t. She needs to feel something and she can’t linger on how Raleigh is the person who understands this. She flips them over instead and sits back on his hips, pressing their bodies together. His hands come up to steady her at first and then to dig painfully into her when she grinds down on him roughly. His hands grip her sides and then get higher and higher until he’s kneading her breasts. She rocks on him as he presses their skin together. 

He flips her without warning and she exhales sharply when she falls back onto the bed. He swears and leans forward to grab something. She presses her teeth into his chest and he groans low in his throat as his finges lock around the condom. He slides back along her body before pulling off her underwear and making quick work of his own. He pulls the condom on and pushes into her in one smooth motion. 

She gasps sharply because he’s long and thick inside her. He shoves one of her legs up and she pushes back against him as he sheathes himself completely in her. He pulls out and pushes in again. She almost moans but his lips seal hotly over hers and he swallows down the sound. Her other leg plants on the bed as she arches up to meet him as he moves. His hands are everywhere on her sides and her stomach and her breasts, but his lips are roughly on hers the entire time. 

She swears and he drinks that down too. For the first time in days he feels sure of something as the cracks in her ice splinter around his fingers. It’s like watching someone come to life. He pushes her harder, she meets him and urges him further. It’s like they’re training or drifting but in some incredibly fucked up way. 

It makes them feel alive. 

They fuck roughly until they can’t think anymore. They can’t think and they can’t hold themselves back. They lay there still joined, gasping in his room. The light throws shadows across their faces, makes them seem like the ghosts they’ll carry for the rest of their lives. Their eyes stay firmly on each other. 

"It doesn’t get easier, does it?" she asks. 

He reaches out and brushes a piece of hair from off her forehead. There’s a sweatness to the gesture and a part of her hates it. But then she realizes she can feel hate again and the gratefulness she feels is enough to tighten her throat. He kisses her lightly, softly. Barely there kisses before he presses their mouths together. 

"You get stronger," he says. 

She nods and tugs him back down, tightening her body around his. He groans into her mouth but when he starts to move it’s different. Gentler. She moans into his mouth and threads her fingers through his hair. He presses his face into her throat and she arches her head back. 

"Together," she whispers. 

"Always," he replies.


End file.
